


Decoration

by entanglednow



Category: Lost Girl
Genre: Body Paint, Flirting, Friendship, Gen, Humor
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-16
Updated: 2013-09-16
Packaged: 2017-12-26 18:32:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/968911
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/entanglednow/pseuds/entanglednow
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Kenzi's been turning the set of little squiggles round and round for ten minutes. She still can't tell if it's a language, or if someone's just dropped interestingly shaped cereal all over the paper.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Decoration

Kenzi's been turning the set of little squiggles round and round for about ten minutes. She still can't tell if it's a language, or if someone's just dropped interestingly shaped cereal all over the paper.

"So, how do you want to do this?" Bo asks, from somewhere above her, where she's leaning over the back of the couch. She's mostly a big blur of hair and paintbrushes. Kenzi loves Bo when she gets all gung-ho, and wants to be super-enthusiastic and jump into things, she really does. Bo gets so much crap done when she's in that frame of mind. But sometimes Kenzi just wants to side-eye the world, and then check its ID, and its criminal record, get character references.

And sometimes she's absolutely sure that the world is just fucking with her.

Today especially. Today is a stretch by the imagination of any sensible person, any sensible not constantly thrust into the insanity that is the world of Fae, person. Kenzi is trying really hard not to get used to the fact that weird things could happen to her every other day. She'll get right on that, once weird things _stop_ happening to her every other day.

She's currently working her way up to the inevitable, legs slowly kicking over the back of the couch.

"Tell me again why I have to have my naked skin graffitied by the magical whosiwhatsit?" She's fairly sure it was a sensible-sounding reason the first time, but she feels compelled to have it explained to her again, just to make absolutely sure.

"Because otherwise the little goblin-y things will eat your tasty, human skin," Bo confirms.

Kenzi nods, because she remembers it being something a lot like that.

"Having my skin eaten off would be bad," she agrees slowly. "That is not a look I could pull off, and I am master, a master at pulling off the un-pull-offable. Which sounds kind of dirty, but it's a talent."

"I think the skinless look is one that very few people could pull off," Bo reassures her. "Even then - I'm not really sure I'd want to actually see it, in the flesh - or not, so to speak?" 

Bo pulls a face, and Kenzi knows she's picturing it, and the world has given them far too much in the way of imagination lately, so Kenzi shudders to stop herself picturing it too. Then she blows out a breath, in one messy stream, and tosses Bo the jar she'd had the paper propped up next to, watches her catch it one-handed, while Kenzi slowly wriggles her way out of her jacket with a sigh. 

"Do you think I did something terrible in a past life, because you know that would explain a lot."

"I'm going to be completely professional," Bo says firmly, and gives her a serious look over the top of the jar of silvery-blue stuff, that she's going to paint all over Kenzi's boobs - ok, technically a lot of the rest of her too. But there will definitely be boob painting in there. "You're lucky I came back early. I might have had to send Dyson over. Make sure you were sufficiently protected from skin-eating goblins."

Kenzi's ninety percent sure she's joking, eighty - seventy and a half. There's a dirty sort of glee about her smile. So maybe Bo's only eighty percent sure she's joking too.

"Ha ha, that's so funny. No, a world of no, because that would be super-awkward. Sometimes you need boob mystery in a circle of friends." She gestures to demonstrate said circle of friends, and the mystery it must contain.

"Boob mystery?" Bo's mouth quirks up at the corner.

"I know, right, and I'm aware that sounds like a bad seventies disco band. But you get the general idea, there should be boobs, and mystery, between Dyson and me. Our relationship requires it."

Bo's smile takes over half her face.

"Your relationship requires boobs, or mystery?"

"Now you're just being funny," Kenzi accuses. "Stop it at once. I will have no jokes once my boobs are on display."

Bo still looks more amused than sympathetic. Kenzi doesn't think she's a believer in the concept of boob mystery. Being more of a boob-sharer, and she thinks she probably mutters that out loud, because Bo hits her with a cushion.

"Clothes off!"

Kenzi grumbles her way out of her laces, while Bo opens things and smells them, and then pulls a face like she's encountered the scent of disappointment itself. She leans back out of range, and looks like she's thinking about immediately screwing the lid back on and throwing the jar out the nearest window, or convenient hole in the wall.

"What does it smell like?" Kenzi can't resist asking, even though she suspects it's one of those things she's going to regret, probably sooner rather than later.

"If you smell it you won't want it on you." Bo sounds pretty sure about that. Kenzi restrains herself from leaning back up onto the couch, to see if she can get her nose close.

"I don't really want it on me now," she admits, before Bo pulls the whole thing out of reach. Because she knows Kenzi well enough to cockblock her regret in advance (which actually makes no sense, but it sounds good in her head.) Kenzi dumps her bodice, then throws her top at Bo's head, but Bo catches that too - before the sleeve falls in the goo and ruins it forever - then tosses it over the back of the couch.

"Nothing weird is going to happen to you. Trick promised it wouldn't do anything weird."

Kenzi pauses with her bra half-undone.

"Did he make the face? The one that says he's trying to be reassuring, but you can still tell something might come and try and eat your face later. And he'll be really sorry about it, but not enough to tell you about it in advance."

Bo shakes her head, because she knows that face well.

"He did not make that face, he was actually doing the awkward smiling thing."

Kenzi grunts, somewhat pacified, shoves a cushion under her head and lays down on the floor, boots clacking together.

"Come on, Bo. Before my naked boobs become cold, naked boobs." She nudges Bo by wiggling a leg. Bo obediently knee-walks her way up her body, until she's straddling Kenzi's thighs. Before she cautiously starts pushing the paintbrush into the jar. The face she's making, though entertaining, isn't exactly what Kenzi was hoping for. The pot makes squelchy noises. Which are not reassuring noises at all. They are, 'someone is going to die horribly on a foggy marsh,' noises.

"You might want to take a deep breath," Bo warns. "This stuff is cold." The 'and unbelievably gross' is entirely silent there, but Kenzi can hear it anyway.

"I'm more concerned by what it's made of, to be honest."

Bo stops squidging the brush through the jar's neck, and looks wary.

"What is it made of?"

Which is exactly like Bo, not to ask the important questions. This is why Kenzi is here, to ask the important questions - not that she did, in this case. But most of the time. She kind of wishes she'd paid attention this time, to be honest. Since it's about to be slathered all over her.

"I don't know, I didn't ask. I always regret asking. The answer is always gross - hey, eyes up here,"

"I have to be able to see what I'm doing," Bo huffs, blowing hair out of her face. "If I'm trying to follow the designs." She slaps a hand down on the paper of letters-or-possibly-cereal. "I don't want to paint one of them backwards. Art is not exactly one of my talents. I don't want to accidentally insult a goblin on your boob and blow the whole thing."

"Pfft, my boobs would never insult anyone." Kenzi throws her arms out, both to demonstrate, and to encourage Bo to get on with it. Which she does, with one last flick of her hair and squidge of the brush. The first careful sweep of brush immediately makes Kenzi breathe in and clench her fingers.

"Oh my god, that is cold," she complains, and the fact that Bo has started at her collarbone isn't helping at all. The trail of a slick, wet paintbrush across that little curve of bone is cold and goopy, and her boobs are now all about the anticipation of cold, wet goopiness.

"Told you," Bo says out the corner of her mouth.

She'd set the pot next to Kenzi's head, and it's close enough now that she can smell it. It smells revolting, it smells like someone squeezed a toad in there. Crap, someone probably squeezed a toad in there, didn't they? She has squeezed toad working its way towards her breasts right now.

The brush warms slowly, leaving the mixture less thick, it's slick and liquid now, instead of tacky against her bare skin, and that's about the moment Bo starts drawing a circle around the top half of her left breast, all swirling lines and flicker of bristles. It's ticklish, and gentle, and if it was anyone else, and there were no squashed toads involved, Kenzi would probably have been completely behind the whole boob-painting thing.

"I'm being very professional," Bo insists, while doing very indecent, feathery things with the brush. Indecent feathery things that are in danger of making Kenzi's toes clench tight inside her boots. But if anyone ever brings that up she's going to plead the fifth.

"You are so not being professional. you're leering at my, might I say, excellent breasts."

"I am not having an opinion on your breasts," Bo says, and she's painting in a way that screams she's trying very hard not to. But then Bo has awesome willpower, so that might actually be true. Kenzi tries to decide if she's a teeny bit offended. Because giving people free reign to look at your boobs when you'd acted like a scandalized maiden aunt five minutes ago is kind of a mixed message. Also, she would not be completely against an opinion on her boobs. Sometimes it's nice to be told after all, and Bo has experience both having boobs and liking boobs. She's a boob connoisseur. Maybe Kenzi should angle for an opinion on her boobs after all?

But Bo's already laughing under her breath, head tilting far enough that a long tail of hair escapes its pinning and drags whisper-soft across the room-chilled point of Kenzi's right nipple. All the nerves go achy-tight, and her hand twitches like it wants to reach up and tug it out of the way. Instead she makes a protesting, huffy noise and lets her boot squeak on the floor.

"This is not a sexy moment," Bo says firmly, and Kenzi suspects she's been repeating that to herself.

"Funny," Kenzi says. "Because it feels like a sexy moment. My boobs think it's a sexy moment."

" _Not helping, Kenzi_."

"You, go back to painting my boobs. While I work on repressing all of this. Because at the moment I feel like this allows me some sort of quid-pro-quo, boob-touching thing, and that way madness and drunken regret lie."

Bo stabs the air in front of her with the paint brush.

"Still not helping." Bo's voice is soft now, amusement a thread beneath the affection and the frustration. Because she's a trooper, yes she is. A sexy, sexy trooper. A sexy trooper who just happens to be drawing some sort of psychotic daisy, with Kenzi's nipple as the center. Which is a prickly, wet slide of promise and tension that she can't help inhaling under. Just a brief hiss in through her teeth, which doesn't make Bo pause, but does make one of her shoes knock on the floor, in a way that Kenzi likes to think is reflexive and surprised. Before she starts painting slightly harder than before, all concentration and resolve.

Kenzi knows she could rattle that concentration, because Bo may be her best friend, but she's easily distracted, by boobs, boobs which just so happen to be covered in pretty silvery-blue paint, and also, are kind of pointy and attention-demanding, in objection to the chilly, wet stripes of it.

She'll admit, she's maybe a little tempted. But poor Bo has a hard enough time managing all the sexy, sexy people who want her fine ass, and though Kenzi appreciates her fine ass, for all the things that it can accomplish, she doesn't personally want to tap it. At least not unless she's under the influence of Fae alcohol, or that weird frog people venom, or the bubblegum flavored ice cream at that party, or those telepathic butterfly people, or Bo's fingers. Holy crap, the Fae are _obsessed_ with making people have sex with each other, aren't they? It should be an entire verse in their national anthem.

Bo lifts her head and makes a face at her - one of her less attractive, squinty, confused faces. It's adorable, and it looks ridiculous.

"Huh?"

"Did I say that out loud?" Kenzi wonders.

Bo nods "Uh huh."

The paintbrush drips droplets of paint onto her bare stomach, tiny spatters of blue that make her skin jump, and the tiny rivulet of paint makes its way in a tickling trail to the waistband of her pants. Bo looks down, mouth opening just a little. She makes some sort of indefinable _noise._

Kenzi reaches over her head, whips out the cushion she's laying on and smacks Bo gently with it.

"Stop thinking whatever you're thinking."

Bo bats the cushions away.

"It was a moment of weakness," she grumbles. "I'm allowed to have moments of weakness."

"Not all over my naked boobs - and oh, that sounded especially dirty, don't do that."

"You're doing this on purpose," Bo accuses, jabbing the brush in her direction.

Kenzi objects to that, she objects by stealing the brush and twisting it around, painting a long, shiny, blue stripe down Bo's nose.

"Finish my boobs," Kenzi says firmly, and then pokes the brush through Bo's ponytail, so it sticks out at a jaunty, paint-spattering angle, making her look like a frustrated artist.

Bo blows hair out of her face, possibly drying the stripe on her nose, before retrieving the brush.

"Yes ma'am."


End file.
